Yesterday morning, I shook Caleb awake at 5:12.
“I think it’s happening.”
He sat straight up.
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve been having contractions for two hours.”
His eyes widened.
“You waited two hours?”
“I wanted to make sure.”
He jumped out of bed so quickly that ten minutes later I noticed he was wearing two different shoes.
For the first time in months, I laughed about something connected to the pregnancy.
The hospital was crowded when we arrived, but Caleb never left my side. By midnight, the room suddenly filled with more nurses. The doctor began giving short instructions, and Caleb stood beside my shoulder looking equally terrified and amazed.
Then I heard crying.
Not mine.
Hers.
Our daughter.
It was loud, furious, healthy crying.
For several seconds, neither Caleb nor I could speak.
He leaned down until his forehead touched mine.
“She’s here.”
I burst into tears.
